Генрик Сенкевич
The Deluge. Vol. 1
Volodyovski sprang up from his seat. "In God's name! impossible!"
"But it is true. At the doors of each Scots are standing with muskets, and they have the order to let no one in or out under pain of death."
The knights looked at one another with astonishment; and Kharlamp was no less astonished at his own words, and looked at his companions with staring eyes, as if awaiting the explanation of the riddle from them.
"Does this mean that Pan Gosyevski is arrested? Has the grand hetman arrested the full hetman?" asked Zagloba; "what does this mean?"
"As if I know, and Yudytski such a knight!"
"But the officers of the prince must speak with one another about it and guess at causes. Have you heard nothing?"
"I asked Harasimovich last night."
"What did he say?" asked Zagloba.
"He would explain nothing, but he put his finger on his mouth and said, 'They are traitors!'"
"How traitors?" cried Volodyovski, seizing his head. "Neither the treasurer nor Pan Yudytski is a traitor. The whole Commonwealth knows them as honorable men and patriots."
"At present 'tis impossible to have faith in any man," answered Pan Stanislav, gloomily. "Did not Pan Opalinski pass for a Cato? Did he not reproach others with defects, with offences, with selfishness? But when it came to do something, he was the first to betray, and brought not only himself, but a whole province to treason."
"I will give my head for the treasurer and Pan Yudytski!" cried Volodyovski.
"Do not give your head for any man, Michael dear," said Zagloba. "They were not arrested without reason. There must have been some conspiracy; it cannot be otherwise, – how could it be? The prince is preparing for a terrible war, and every aid is precious to him. Whom, then, at such a time can he put under arrest, if not those who stand in the way of war? If this is so, if these two men have really stood in the way, then praise be to God that Radzivill has anticipated them. They deserve to sit under ground. Ah, the scoundrels! – at such a time to practise tricks, communicate with the enemy, rise against the country, hinder a great warrior in his undertaking! By the Most Holy Mother, what has met them is too little, the rascals!"
"These are wonders, – such wonders that I cannot put them in my head," said Kharlamp; "for letting alone that they are such dignitaries, they are arrested without judgment, without a diet, without the will of the whole Commonwealth, – a thing which the king himself has not the right to do."
"As true as I live," cried Pan Michael.
"It is evident that the prince wants to introduce Roman customs among us," said Pan Stanislav, "and become dictator in time of war."
"Let him be dictator if he will only beat the Swedes," said Zagloba; "I will be the first to vote for his dictatorship."
Pan Yan fell to thinking, and after a while said, "Unless he should wish to become protector, like that English Cromwell who did not hesitate to raise his sacrilegious hand on his own king."
"Nonsense! Cromwell? Cromwell was a heretic!" cried Zagloba.
"But what is the prince voevoda?" asked Pan Yan, seriously.
At this question all were silent, and considered the dark future for a time with fear; but Kharlamp looked angry and said, -
"I have served under the prince from early years, though I am little younger than he; for in the beginning, when I was still a stripling, he was my captain, later on he was full hetman, and now he is grand hetman. I know him better than any one here; I both love and honor him; therefore I ask you not to compare him with Cromwell, so that I may not be forced to say something which would not become me as host in this room."
Here Kharlamp began to twitch his mustaches terribly, and to frown a little at Pan Yan; seeing which, Volodyovski fixed on Kharlamp a cool and sharp look, as if he wished to say, "Only growl, only growl!"
Great Mustache took note at once, for he held Volodyovski in unusual esteem, and besides it was dangerous to get angry with him; therefore he continued in a far milder tone, -
"The prince is a Calvinist; but he did not reject the true faith for errors, for he was born in them. He will never become either a Cromwell, a Radzeyovski, or an Opalinski, though Kyedani had to sink through the earth. Not such is his blood, not such his stock."
"If he is the devil and has horns on his head," said Zagloba, "so much the better, for he will have something to gore the Swedes with."
"But that Pan Gosyevski and Pan Yudytski are arrested, well, well!" said Volodyovski, shaking his head. "The prince is not very amiable to guests who have confided in him."
"What do you say, Michael?" answered Kharlamp. "He is amiable as he has never been in his life. He is now a real father to the knights. Think how some time ago he had always a frown on his forehead, and on his lips one word, 'Service.' A man was more afraid to go near his majesty than he was to stand before the king; and now he goes every day among the lieutenants and the officers, converses, asks each one about his family, his children, his property, calls each man by name, and inquires if injustice has been done to any one in service. He who among the highest lords will not own an equal, walked yesterday arm-in-arm with young Kmita. We could not believe our eyes; for though the family of Kmita is a great one, he is quite young, and likely many accusations are weighing on him. Of this you know best."
"I know, I know," replied Volodyovski. "Has Kmita been here long?"
"He is not here now, for he went yesterday to Cheykishki for a regiment of infantry stationed there. No one is now in such favor with the prince as Kmita. When he was going away the prince looked after him awhile and said, 'That man is equal to anything, and is ready to seize the devil himself by the tail if I tell him!' We heard this with our own ears. It is true that Kmita brought a squadron that has not an equal in the whole army, – men and horses like dragons!"
"There is no use in talking, he is a valiant soldier, and in truth ready for everything," said Pan Michael. "He performed wonders in the last campaign, till a price was set on his head, for he led volunteers and carried on war himself."
Further conversation was interrupted by the entrance of a new figure. This was a noble about forty years of age, small, dry, alert, wriggling like a mud-fish, with a small face, very thin lips, a scant mustache, and very crooked eyes. He was dressed in a ticking-coat, with such long sleeves that they covered his hands completely. When he had entered he bent double, then he straightened himself as suddenly as if moved by a spring, again he inclined with a low bow, turned his head as if he were taking it out of his own armpits, and began to speak hurriedly in a voice which recalled the squeaking of a rusty weather-cock, -
"With the forehead, Pan Kharlamp, with the forehead. Ah! with the forehead, Pan Colonel, most abject servant!"
"With the forehead, Pan Harasimovich," answered Kharlamp; "and what is your wish?"
"God gave guests, distinguished guests. I came to offer my services and to inquire their rank."
"Did they come to you, Pan Harasimovich?"
"Certainly not to me, for I am not worthy of that; but because I take the place of the absent marshal. I have come to greet them profoundly."
"It is far from you to the marshal," said Kharlamp; "for he is a personage with inherited land, while you with permission are under-starosta of Zabludovo."
"A servant of the servants of Radzivill. That is true, Pan Kharlamp, I make no denial; God preserve me therefrom. But since the prince has heard of the guests, he has sent me to inquire who they are; therefore you will answer, Pan Kharlamp, if I were even a haiduk and not the under-starosta of Zabludovo."
"Oh, I would answer even a monkey if he were to come with an order," said Big Nose. "Listen now, and calk these names into yourself if your head is not able to hold them. This is Pan Skshetuski, that hero of Zbaraj; and this is his cousin Stanislav."
"Great God! what do I hear?" cried Harasimovich.
"This is Pan Zagloba."
"Great God! what do I hear?"
"If you are so confused at hearing my name," said Zagloba, "think of the confusion of the enemy in the field."
"And this is Colonel Volodyovski," finished Kharlamp.
"And he has a famous sabre, and besides is a Radzivill man." said Harasimovich, with a bow. "The prince's head is splitting from labor; but still he will find time for such knights, surely he will find it. Meanwhile with what can you be served? The whole castle is at the service of such welcome guests, and the cellars as well."
"We have heard of the famous meads of Kyedani," said Zagloba, hurriedly.
"Indeed!" answered Harasimovich, "there are glorious meads in Kyedani, glorious. I will send some hither for you to choose from right away. I hope that my benefactors will stay here long."
"We have come hither," said Pan Stanislav, "not to leave the side of the prince."
"Praiseworthy is your intention, the more so that trying times are at hand."
When he had said this, Harasimovich wriggled and became as small as if an ell had been taken from his stature.
"What is to be heard?" asked Kharlamp. "Is there any news?"
"The prince has not closed an eye all night, for two envoys have come. Evil are the tidings, increasingly evil. Karl Gustav has already entered the Commonwealth after Wittemberg; Poznan is now occupied, all Great Poland is occupied, Mazovia will be occupied soon; the Swedes are in Lovich, right at Warsaw. Our king has fled from Warsaw, which he left undefended. To-day or to-morrow the Swedes will enter. They say that the king has lost a considerable battle, that he thinks of escaping to Cracow, and thence to foreign lands to ask aid. Evil, gracious gentlemen, my benefactors! Though there are some who say that it is well; for the Swedes commit no violence, observe agreements sacredly, collect no imposts, respect liberties, do not hinder the faith. Therefore all accept the protection of Karl Gustav willingly. For our king, Yan Kazimir, is at fault, greatly at fault. All is lost, lost for him! One would like to weep, but all is lost, lost!"
"Why the devil do you wriggle like a mudfish going to the pot," howled Zagloba, "and speak of a misfortune as if you were glad of it?"
Harasimovich pretended not to hear, and raising his eyes to heaven he repeated yet a number of times: "All is lost, lost for the ages! The Commonwealth cannot stand against three wars. Lost! The will of God, the will of God! Our prince alone can save Lithuania."
The ill-omened words had not yet ceased to sound when Harasimovich vanished behind the door as quickly as if he had sunk through the earth, and the knights sat in gloom bent by the weight of terrible thoughts.
"We shall go mad!" cried Volodyovski at last.
"You are right," said Stanislav. "God give war, war at the earliest, – war in which a man does not ruin himself in thinking, nor yield his soul to despair, but fights."
"We shall regret the first period of Hmelnitski's war," said Zagloba; "for though there were defeats then, there were no traitors."
"Three such terrible wars, when in fact there is a lack of forces for one," said Stanislav.
"Not a lack of forces, but of spirit. The country is perishing through viciousness. God grant us to live to something better!" said Pan Yan, gloomily.
"We shall not rest till we are in the field," said Stanislav.
"If we can only see this prince soon!" cried Zagloba.
Their wishes were accomplished directly; for after an hour's time Harasimovich came again, with still lower bows, and with the announcement that the prince was waiting anxiously to see them.
They sprang up at once, for they had already changed uniforms, and went. Harasimovich, in conducting them from the barracks, passed through the courtyard, which was full of soldiers and nobles. In some places they were conversing in crowds, evidently over the same news which the under-starosta of Zabludovo had brought the knights. On all faces were depicted lively alarm and a certain feverish expectation. Isolated groups of officers and nobles were listening to the speakers, who standing in the midst of them gesticulated violently. On the way were heard the words: "Vilna is burning, Vilna is burned! – No trace of it, nor the ashes! Warsaw is taken! – Untrue, not taken yet! – The Swedes are in Little Poland! The people of Syeradz will resist! – They will not resist, they will follow the example of Great Poland! – Treason! misfortune! O God, God! It is unknown where to put sabre or hand!"
Such words as these, more and more terrible, struck the ears of the knights; but they went on pushing after Harasimovich through the soldiers and nobles with difficulty. In places acquaintances greeted Volodyovski: "How is your health, Michael? 'Tis evil with us; we are perishing! With the forehead, brave Colonel! And what guests are these whom you are taking to the prince?" Pan Michael answered not, wishing to escape delay; and in this fashion they went to the main body of the castle, in which the janissaries of the prince, in chain-mail and gigantic white caps, were on guard.
In the antechamber and on the main staircase, set around with orange-trees, the throng was still greater than in the courtyard. They were discussing there the arrest of Gosyevski and Yudytski; for the affair had become known, and roused the minds of men to the utmost. They were astonished and lost in surmises, they were indignant or praised the foresight of the prince; but all hoped to hear the explanation of the riddle from Radzivill himself, therefore a river of heads was flowing along the broad staircase up to the hall of audience, in which at that time the prince was to receive colonels and the most intimate nobility. Soldiers disposed along the stone banisters to see that the throng was not too dense, repeated, from moment to moment, "Slowly, gracious gentlemen, slowly!" And the crowd pushed forward or halted for a moment, when a soldier stopped the way with a halbert so that those in front might have time to enter the hall.
At last the blue vaultings of the hall gleamed before the open door, and our acquaintances entered. Their glances fell first on an elevation, placed in the depth of the hall, occupied by a brilliant retinue of knights and lords in rich, many-colored dresses. In front stood an empty arm-chair, pushed forward beyond the others. This chair had a lofty back, ending with the gilded coronet of the prince, from beneath which flowed downward orange-colored velvet trimmed with ermine.
The prince was not in the hall yet; but Harasimovich, conducting the knights without interruption, pushed through the nobility till he reached a small door concealed in the wall at the side of the elevation. There he directed them to remain, and disappeared through the door.
After a while he returned with the announcement that the prince asked them to enter.
The two Skshetuskis, with Zagloba and Volodyovski, entered a small but very well-lighted room, having walls covered with leather stamped in flowers, which were gilded. The officers halted on seeing in the depth of the room, at a table covered with papers, two men conversing intently. One of them, still young, dressed in foreign fashion, wearing a wig with long locks falling to his shoulders, whispered something in the ear of his elder companion; the latter heard him with frowning brow, and nodded from time to time. So much was he occupied with the subject of the conversation that he did not turn attention at once to those who had entered.
He was a man somewhat beyond forty years, of gigantic stature and great shoulders. He wore a scarlet Polish coat, fastened at the neck with costly brooches. He had an enormous face, with features expressing pride, importance, and power. It was at once the face of an angry lion, of a warrior, and a ruler. Long pendent mustaches lent it a stern expression, and altogether in its strength and size it was as if struck out of marble with great blows of a hammer. The brows were at that moment frowning from intense thought; but it could easily be seen that when they were frowning from anger, woe to those men and those armies on whom the thunders of that anger should fall.
There was something so great in the form that it seemed to those knights that not only the room, but the whole castle was too narrow for it; in fact, their first impression had not deceived them, for sitting in their presence was Yanush Radzivill, prince at Birji and Dubinki, voevoda of Vilna and grand hetman of Lithuania, – a man so powerful and proud that in all his immense estates, in all his dignities, nay, in Jmud and in Lithuania itself, it was too narrow for him.
The younger man in the long wig and foreign dress was Prince Boguslav, the cousin of Yanush. After a while he whispered something more in the ear of the hetman, and at last said audibly, -
"I will leave, then, my signature on the document and go."
"Since it cannot be otherwise, go," said Yanush, "though I would that you remained, for it is unknown what may happen."
"You have planned everything properly; henceforth it is needful to look carefully to the cause, and now I commit you to God."
"May the Lord have in care our whole house and bring it praise."
"Adieu, mon frère."
"Adieu."
The two princes shook hands; then Boguslav went out hurriedly, and the grand hetman turned to the visitors.
"Pardon me, gentlemen, that I let you wait," said he, with a low, deliberate voice; "but now time and attention are snatched from us on every side. I have heard your names, and rejoice in my soul that God sent me such knights in this crisis. Be seated, dear guests. Who of you is Pan Yan Skshetuski?"
"I am, at the service of your highness."
"Then you are a starosta-pardon me, I forgot."
"I am not a starosta," answered Yan.
"How is that?" asked the prince, frowning with his two mighty brows; "they have not made you a starosta for what you did at Zbaraj?"
"I have never asked for the office."
"But they should have made you starosta without the asking. How is this? What do you tell me? You rewarded with nothing, forgotten entirely? This is a wonder to me. But I am talking at random. It should astonish no man; for in these days only he is rewarded who has the back of a willow, light-bending. You are not a starosta, upon my word! Thanks be to God that you have come hither, for here we have not such short memories, and no service remains unrewarded. How is it with you, worthy Colonel Volodyovski?"
"I have earned nothing yet."
"Leave that to me, and now take this document, drawn up in Rossyeni, by which I give you Dydkyemie for life. It is not a bad piece of land, and a hundred ploughs go out to work there every spring. Take even that, for I cannot give more, and tell Pan Skshetuski that Radzivill does not forget his friends, nor those who give their service to the country under his leadership."
"Your princely highness!" stammered Pan Michael, in confusion.
"Say nothing, and pardon that it is so small; but tell these gentlemen that he who joins his fortune for good and ill with that of Radzivill will not perish. I am not king; but if I were, God is my witness that I would never forget such a Yan Skshetuski or such a Zagloba."
"That is I!" said Zagloba, pushing himself forward sharply, for he had begun to be impatient that there was no mention of him.
"I thought it was you, for I have been told that you were a man of advanced years."
"I went to school in company with your highness's worthy father; and there was such knightly impulse in him from childhood that he took me to his confidence, for I loved the lance before Latin."
To Pan Stanislav, who knew Zagloba less, it was strange to hear this, since only the day before, Zagloba said in Upita that he had gone to school, not with the late Prince Kryshtof, but with Yanush himself, – which was unlikely, for Prince Yanush was notably younger.
"Indeed," said the prince; "so then you are from Lithuania by family?"
"From Lithuania!" answered Zagloba, without hesitation.
"Then I know that you need no reward, for we Lithuanians are used to be fed with ingratitude. As God is true, if I should give you your deserts, gentlemen, there would be nothing left for myself. But such is fate! We give our blood, lives, fortunes, and no one nods a head to us. Ah! 'tis hard; but as they sow will they reap. That is what God and justice command. It is you who slew the famous Burlai and cut off three heads at a blow in Zbaraj?"
"I slew Burlai, your highness," answered Zagloba, "for it was said that no man could stand before him. I wished therefore to show younger warriors that manhood was not extinct in the Commonwealth. But as to cutting off the three heads, it may be that I did that in the thick of battle; but in Zbaraj some one else did it."
The prince was silent awhile, then continued: "Does not that contempt pain you, gentlemen, with which they pay you?"
"What is to be done, your highness, even if it is disagreeable to a man?" said Zagloba.
"Well, comfort yourselves, for that must change. I am already your debtor, since you have come here; and though I am not king, still with me it will not end with promises."
"Your princely highness," said Pan Yan, quickly and somewhat proudly, "we have come hither not for rewards and estates, but because the enemy has invaded the country, and we wish to go with our strength to assist it under the leadership of a famous warrior. My cousin Stanislav saw at Uistsie fear, disorder, shame, treason, and finally the enemy's triumph. Here under a great leader and a faithful defender of our country and king we will serve. Here not victories, not triumphs, but defeats and death await the enemy. This is why we have come to offer our service to your highness. We are soldiers; we want to fight, and are impatient for battle."
"If such is your desire, you will be satisfied," answered the prince, with importance. "You will not wait long, though at first we shall march on another enemy, for the ashes of Vilna demand vengeance. To-day or to-morrow we shall march in that direction, and God grant will redeem the wrongs with interest. I will not detain you longer, gentlemen; you need rest, and work is burning me. But come in the evening to the hall; maybe some proper entertainment will take place before the march, for a great number of fair heads have assembled under our protection at Kyedani before the war. Worthy Colonel Volodyovski, entertain these welcome guests as if in your own house, and remember that what is mine is yours. Pan Harasimovich, tell my brother nobles assembled in the hall, that I will not go out, for I have not the time, and this evening they will learn everything that they wish to know. Be in good health, gentlemen, and be friends of Radzivill, for that is greatly important for him now."
When he had said this, that mighty and proud lord gave his hand in turn to Zagloba, the two Skshetuskis, Volodyovski, and Kharlamp, as if to equals. His stern face grew radiant with a cordial and friendly smile, and that inaccessibleness usually surrounding him as with a dark cloud vanished completely.
"That is a leader, that is a warrior!" said Stanislav, when on the return they had pushed themselves through the throng of nobles assembled in the audience-hall.
"I would go into fire after him!" cried Zagloba. "Did you notice how he had all my exploits in his memory? It will be hot for the Swedes when that lion roars, and I second him. There is not another such man in the Commonwealth; and of the former men only Prince Yeremi first, and second Konyetspolski, the father, might be compared with him. That is not some mere castellan, the first of his family to sit in a senator's chair, on which he has not yet smoothed out the wrinkles of his trousers, and still turns up his nose and calls the nobles younger brothers, and gives orders right away to paint his portrait, so that while dining he may have his senatorship before him, since he has nothing to look at behind. Pan Michael, you have come to fortune. It is evident now that if a man rubs against Radzivill he will gild at once his threadbare coat. It is easier to get promotion here, I see, than a quart of rotten pears with us. Stick your hands into the water in this place, and with closed eyes you will catch a pike. For me he is the magnate of magnates! God give you luck, Pan Michael! You are as confused as a young woman just married; but that is nothing! What is the name of your life estate? Dudkovo, or something? Heathen names in this country! Throw nuts against the wall, and you will have in the rattling the proper name of a village or noble. But names are nothing if the income is only good."
"I am terribly confused, I confess," said Pan Michael, "because what you say about easy promotion is not true. More than once have I heard old soldiers charge the prince with avarice, but now unexpected favors are showered one after the other."
"Stick that document behind your belt, – do that for me, – and if any one in future complains of the thanklessness of the prince, draw it out and give it to him on the nose. You will not find a better argument."
"One thing I see clearly: the prince is attracting people to his person, and is forming plans for which he needs help." said Pan Yan.
"But have you not heard of those plans?" asked Zagloba. "Has he not said that we have to go to avenge the ashes of Vilna? They complained that he had robbed Vilna, but he wants to show that he not only does not need other people's property, but is ready to give of his own. That is a beautiful ambition, Yan, God give us more of such senators."
Conversing thus, they found themselves in the courtyard, to which every moment rode in now divisions of mounted troops, now crowds of armed nobles, and now carriages rolled in, bringing persons from the country around, with their wives and children.
Seeing this, Pan Michael drew all with him to the gate to look at those entering.
"Who knows, Michael, this is your fortunate day? Maybe there is a wife for you among these nobles' daughters," said Zagloba. "Look! see, there an open carriage is approaching, and in it something white is sitting."
"That is not a lady, but a man who may marry me to one," answered the swift-eyed Volodyovski; for from a distance he recognized the bishop Parchevski, coming with Father Byalozor, archdeacon of Vilna.
"If they are priests, how are they visiting a Calvinist?"
"What is to be done? When it's necessary for public affairs, they must be polite."
"Oh, it is crowded here! Oh, it is noisy!" cried Zagloba, with delight. "A man grows rusty in the country, like an old key in a lock; here I think of better times. I'm a rascal if I don't make love to some pretty girl to-day."
Zagloba's words were interrupted by the soldiers keeping guard at the gate, who rushing out from their booths stood in two ranks to salute the bishop; and he rode past, making the sign of the cross with his hand on each side, blessing the soldiers and the nobles assembled near by.
"The prince is a polite man," said Zagloba, "since he honors the bishop, though he does not recognize the supremacy of the Church. God grant this to be the first step toward conversion!"
"Oh, nothing will come of it! Not few were the efforts of his first wife, and she accomplished nothing, only died from vexation. But why do the Scots not leave the line? It is evident that another dignitary will pass."
In fact, a whole retinue of armed soldiers appeared in the distance.
"Those are Ganhoff's dragoons, – I know them," said Volodyovski; "but some carriages are in the middle!"
At that moment the drums began to rattle.
"Oh, it is evident that some one greater than the bishop of Jmud is there!" cried Zagloba.
"Wait, they are here already."
"There are two carriages in the middle."
"True. In the first sits Pan Korf, the voevoda of Venden."
"Of course!" cried Pan Yan; "that is an acquaintance from Zbaraj."
The voevoda recognized them, and first Volodyovski, whom he had evidently seen oftener; in passing he leaned from the carriage and cried, -
"I greet you, gentlemen, old comrades! See, I bring guests!"
In the second carriage, with the arms of Prince Yanush, drawn by four white horses, sat two gentlemen of lordly mien, dressed in foreign fashion, in broad-brimmed hats, from under which the blond curls of wigs flowed to their shoulders over wide lace collars. One was very portly, wore a pointed light-blond beard, and mustaches bushy and turned up at the ends; the other was younger, dressed wholly in black. He had a less knightly form, but perhaps a higher office, for a gold chain glittered on his neck, with some order at the end. Apparently both were foreigners, for they looked with curiosity at the castle, the people, and the dresses.
"What sort of devils?" asked Zagloba.
"I do not know them, I have never seen them," answered Volodyovski.
Meanwhile the carriages passed, and began to turn in the yard so as to reach the main entrance of the castle, but the dragoons remained outside the gate. "Volodyovski knew the officer leading them.
"Tokarzevich!" called he, "come to us, please."
"With the forehead, worthy Colonel."
"And what kind of hedgehogs are you bringing?"
"Those are Swedes."
"Swedes!"
"Yes, and men of distinction. The portly one is Count Löwenhaupt, and the slender man is Benedikt Schitte, Baron von Duderhoff."
"Duderhoff?" asked Zagloba.
"What do they want here?" inquired Volodyovski.
"God knows!" answered the officer. "We escorted them from Birji. Undoubtedly they have come to negotiate with our prince, for we heard in Birji that he is assembling a great army and is going to move on Livonia."
"Ah, rascals! you are growing timid," cried Zagloba. "Now you are invading Great Poland, now you are deposing the king, and now you are paying court to Radzivill, so that he should not tickle you in Livonia. Wait! you will run away to your Dunderhoff till your stockings are down. We'll soon dunder with you. Long life to Radzivill!"
